


Haunted

by IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow



Series: Bedannibal AUs [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU, Bedannibal in peril!, Brief depiction but worth noting, Clairvoyance, F/M, Haunted House story, tw body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 04:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15789063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow/pseuds/IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow
Summary: He can still remember the warm, smooth feel of her skin as she comforted him. Only a child herself, younger than him no less, and yet she held him so tenderly as he cried; assured him that he would be alright.





	Haunted

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Bedannibal Clairvoyant AU, part of my series of AUs. Horror is my favorite genre, and I’ve always wanted to write a fic with ghosties. When I watch Hannibal, I just kept thinking how Bedelia always sees him, so I made this fic where she’s actually a clairvoyant and they first meet as teens. This fic is somewhat inspired by The Conjuring, because it’s a great movie, and Vera Farmiga’s portrayal is v. good imo. I tried to channel similar vibes. 
> 
> Tw: There is a bit of body horror in the scene starting with “the night before” if you feel like skipping. It’s very brief, but I figured it’s worth mentioning. 

 

Hannibal approaches the building cautiously, unsure of how the day would turn out. He was anxious in coming here, but was honestly out of options. He remembered her name easily- How do you forget someone who saved your life?  _Bedelia Du Maurier._ However, now, the letters ‘PhD’ followed. She’d been busy in the 20 years since he last saw her.

He rides in the elevator up to the floor of her office, trying different conversations out in his head. Would it be better to start immediately with his request, or build up to it? He decides to lie instead; she wouldn’t recognize him after so long.

Greeted by her secretary, a bubbly woman with energy that must be specifically cultivated to handle clients, Hannibal takes the new client forms, and begins to absentmindedly fill them out. Sex: Male, Age: 34, Occupation: Lawyer, but he catches himself before filling in his address. He had traveled a long way to meet with her after all these years, and he didn’t want to invite suspicion from the secretary by writing in his East Coast address. Instead, he fills in the address of his hotel.

This isn’t his first visit to a counselor. On the contrary, he has been seeing one since his teens, nearly 20 years of therapy. However, he isn’t here to seek her psychological services, even though he has pined for her for two decades, which must relate to some sort of psychosis.

Turning in the forms, the chipper red-head smiles and thanks him, “Dr. Du Maurier will be out momentarily, Mr. Lecter.”  

He can still remember the warm, smooth feel of her skin as she comforted him. Only a child herself, younger than him no less, and yet she held him so tenderly as he cried; assured him that he would be alright.

However, when the door to her office opens and she emerges, he realizes that this is not the girl he knew as a child. She introduces herself in a husky but womanly voice so different from  _before_  and smiles softly, ushering him away from the secretary and into her office. The smile never reaches her eyes, cold detachment in its place.

* * *

He enters the office first and she follows, closing the door with a gentle click. She directs him to the cushioned chair and takes her place directly across from him, delicately crossing her shapely legs. Her eyes slowly change in the few moments they sit in silence, melting into softer pools. They are still intelligent, but now reflect the kindness he had seen so many years ago. 

“I know why you’re here, Hannibal,” she says gently, trying to make her dismissal as merciful as possible. It tugs at his chest that after all this time, she not only remembered, but still cared for him. Before she has the opportunity to continue, he leans forward in his armchair.

“Delia, you do-”

 _“I don’t use that name anymore”_  she nearly hisses and he is startled to see the anger there. 

‘ _What happened to her?’_ he thinks to himself. 

She blinks rapidly then, apparently as shocked as him at her outburst. Her face is wiped smooth almost instantly, and her eyes have settled to indifference. “I apologize. That was unprofessional of me.”

Hannibal realizes she is trying to distance herself from the conversation, but he won’t let her; not that easily.   

“It’s my sister,” he says, trying to reach her “She’s  _haunting_ me.”

“What?” she says a little too loudly, and her face registers shock. She shakes her head lightly, “Hannibal, that can’t be, she-”

“I haven’t been able to go  _home,_ ” he says emphatically, and she can see there are tears in his eyes.

Bedelia delicately uncrosses her legs, placing both of her heeled feet on the hardwood floor. She leans in closer to him, her hands outstretched, palms up. When his hands join hers hovered over the coffee table, she wraps her fingers around his tenderly.

Her eyes close and she sees flashes of light and darkness. Items falling off of a counter, brandy tossed against a wall. There is a darkness that she can’t quite pinpoint in her vision, but she feels his terror, sadness, and most of all, guilt. She breaths in deeply, before releasing his fingers.

When her eyes open, she finds that he is staring at her intensely. Although they have aged considerably, she could still identify him by his eyes alone. 

“I missed you,” he says suddenly, the words tumbling out of his mouth after twenty years of being trapped. A flush creeps onto his cheeks at his admittance. “I thought I’d never see you again after you moved so unexpectedly.”

“My Father decided it was time to take my” she pauses, licking her lips. This conversation is clearly difficult for her. She swallows and continues “my  _talents_  on the road.” She wasn’t planning to reveal this part of her life to him, but finds that it has brought her relief. A secret shared, her burden finally released. When he takes his warm hand in hers again, his thumb rubbing small circles on her skin, she sighs. She has missed his company, desperately so, but she isn’t naïve enough to admit it to him. After all, he only sought her out when he was being haunted. Still, when she meets his eyes and tears are glistening there, there’s only one thing she can say to him.

“I will help you. Because you asked me to.” 

* * *

 

After arranging with her secretary and clients, Bedelia sets out to fly back to Baltimore with Hannibal  a little over a week after he first showed up in her office. Since that day, she had been spending nearly every moment of her free time with him, and it surprises them both.

They have more in common than she originally thought. He enjoys fine wines, and classical music, but doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty in her garden. She prepares the guest bedroom for him, and they spend their evenings talking about the past, present and future. He cooks a delicious chicken marsala for her, and she returns his gift by making a spinach and feta quiche in the morning. When his lips gently part hers, still tasting like morning coffee, she feels content. They have quickly fallen into a routine, neither of them truly realizing it. It feels  _comfortable_  to have him here with her; to feel close to someone after being alone for so long.

She pushes away her thoughts on the dangers of bonding over shared childhood trauma. 

* * *

 

The night before they depart for Baltimore, Hannibal leans in closer to her after dinner, and she can feel his breath on her skin. Her stomach flutters when she sees the hunger in his eyes, her body beginning to heat with anticipation. But when his lips meet hers, they taste sour and rotten, and she turns from him, gagging. Her stomach twists, and she feels it in her throat.

Bedelia hurries to the bathroom clumsily, the back of her hand pressed against her mouth. Her knees are cold on the white tile as she leans over the toilet, retching. Something is lodged in her throat and she can’t seem to expel it. She coughs and gags, her eyes darting around the room. ‘ _Hannibal?’_ She thinks, ‘ _Help me, please_.’ Finally, the object loosens before sliding out of her throat, her entire body spasming.

Something blackened and decaying rests in her toilet bowel, covered in maggots and smelling like rotten meat.

An ear.

* * *

 

Bedelia awakens with a gasp, and begins to choke, tears springing to her eyes. She pulls her body up into a seated position, her back hunched as she takes in rattled breaths. The purple satin chemise clings to her sweat-soaked skin.

Hannibal is up from his spot next to her in a moment, his chest pressed to her skin. He’s saying something to her, but the words are jumbled and far away. ‘ _You’re so cold’_ she deciphers, feeling like he’s talking to her through a sheet of ice. He wraps his arms around her, and she feels his warmth. Suddenly, she feels his face pressed against hers, his breath in her ear.

“Bedelia,” he whispers. “you’re okay, Bedelia,” he says reassuringly. She doesn’t know if he’s trying to convince her or himself. Her breath finally evens, and he presses a tender kiss at her temple. 

“What did you see?” he asks, concerned, wanting to take the pain away from her. His hand runs comforting circles on her back.

When Bedelia finally meets his eyes, she sees her own fear reflected there. A single tear pools over her left eye and slides down her cheek.

“Your  _sister_ ” she rasps.

* * *

 

During their ride from the airport, he takes quick glances at her. Her eyes are closed, but he can tell she isn’t sleeping. Earlier in the week she had told him of her various successes with meditation; that she used it to sharpen her resolve and detach herself from her visions, if only for a moment. He does not interrupt her, knowing she needs this time to herself. However, when they arrive outside his childhood home, and she rises from the car, Hannibal finally notices her fatigue.  

“We don’t have to do this today,” he whispers into her golden hair as they approach the stairs, his arm wrapped around her tiny waist.

“I do,” she says, resolute. There is determination in her eyes and he knows better than to argue with her. When he doesn’t respond, she finally reveals her secret. “My visions are getting darker, Hannibal.”

He wants to ask her,  _‘Since when’_  but he already has the answer. Throughout the previous week she had kept the images she saw locked away in her mind, wanting to protect him. He wants to tell her that she doesn’t have to be strong for him. Instead, he takes her small hand in his and squeezes it gently.

* * *

 

Hannibal slides his key into the heavy oak door and eases it open, stepping into the house. He lingers there for a moment, blocking the door with his body, his eyes darting around and searching for any sign of trouble. When nothing falls from the walls or slides across the room, he side-steps, and hesitantly gestures her inside. But as soon as Bedelia steps through the doorframe, she knows something is  _terribly_  wrong. The walls are soaked in thick black clouds of despair, but that is not what frightens her. Instead, it is that she can sense malevolence.

Something  _evil_  was in this house.

She hears a tiny creak, and Hannibal is gripping her shoulders tightly, yanking her away from the door. It slams with a bang, and the entire house groans.

Steeling herself, Bedelia balls her hands into fists and takes a few more cautious steps into the entryway. She feels something festering in this house and needs to find it; she needs to help him. Suddenly, a cold chill passes over her body, and her chest tightens at her realization.

“ _Hannibal_ ” her voice is gravelly. She had never seen spirits evoke this sort of power. Her visions were never perfect recreations, but she finally realizes she _never_  saw his sister’s corporeal form in any of them. Her body begins to tingle and her head throbs. She had missed something essential. “Did your sister  _ask_  to  _stay_  in this house?”

“She told me she was scared and alone” he says innocently, not understanding the meaning or gravity of what he just revealed to her. It nearly makes her cry to see his guilt over his sister’s murder exploited like this. He was only a child, and yet the feeling of culpability has been wrapped around his bones since Mischa’s death.

 _‘They pick out the weakest spirits,’_ her Mother’s voice echoes in her head, a reminder of her past. How long had he been a target? Bedelia suddenly releases a pained gasp, and Hannibal turns instantly, taking in her appearance. Her hand is pressed up against the wall, supporting her weight. Her eyes are vacant and seem to look past him.

“ _Bedelia?_ ” he asks, his voice dripping with concern and fear. He begins to look over his shoulder to follow her line of sight when her words pin him.

“ _No”_  she suddenly snaps at him, “don’t look.”  Her teeth are gritting. 

She pushes herself from the wall, and tries to support her full weight again, but her legs wobble. Her vision is blurred and she’s so extremely nauseous. She finally smells it, then. The  _rotting meat_. Her dream of his sister was not a cruel taunt of her subconscious, but a  _warning_. Bedelia fights to remain conscious, but her head lolls, and soon her eyes roll.

Hannibal is shouting her name and his arms are around her before she falls. He scoops her small body into arms effortlessly, needing to get her to safety. He shouldn’t have ever brought her here.

When he tries to open the front door, finding it locked, she stirs in his arms, emitting a small whimper. His eyebrows furrow with worry, and he lowers her to the floor, planning to throw the entire weight of his body against the door to break it open. She is still cradled in his arms when her hand clenches his forearm as tightly as she could manage. He meets her eyes and he’s never seen someone look more certain.

 _“Hannibal_ ” she whispers, her own terror seeping into her voice, making it wobble “ _that_  is  _not_  your sister.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think about this series! :)


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